“Uma, what is it?” A warrior with the bracelets of a sergeant stepped up beside the young men. “Don’t pick fights with the locals, soldier.”
“I didn’t! They—”
The second rock hit the commander’s shoulder. “Gah! Was it you?” The guard jabbed his sword in her direction.
Horror shot through Talitha for one sickening moment. The next instant, the guard was grabbing the collar of a girl in rags no more than seven or eight.
“Who was it? Tell us or she looses a hand!” the cloud sniffer shouted.
Talitha cast about for a plan, any plan.
“I never did, sir!” the child cried. “I swear I didn’t! I would never—”
“Do not trifle with us!” the commander roared. “We will do it!”
If Ashek had drawn mild interest, the accosted girl drew a true crowd. Two men appeared with their heads wrapped in the turbans of devotees to the god Damuz.
“My cousin meant no offense, my good lord,” the taller of the two said, bowing. “She wouldn’t—”
The cloud sniffer was not appeased. “Was it you? You crawling sand rat born into a pile of shit for a—”
Talitha didn’t see who threw the first punch. The men were too close together and the small crowd pressed in around the throng.
The Ilian went down and the girl was wrenched from his grip an instant later. The morning erupted into chaos and Talitha had no idea what was happening.
A sword flashed out, drawn by the cloud sniffer.
“No attacking locals!” bellowed the captain.
“They attacked first!”
Talitha took her cue as the other Ilians rushed into the fray. The balding captain sprang to his feet and rushed as a rocks and sticks began to fly. Someone shouted and the villagers multiplied by the instant. Talitha lashed the blanket around her waist to free her arms.
Where had they all come from?
Talitha snatched up the next rock she saw and hurled it at the Ilians. It clunked off someone’s armor. A shout went up and a full-blown brawl took off. She was in the open with no help, no defenses, and absolutely no plan.
Running to the pole, Talitha attacked the ropes anchoring Ashek at the base of the pole. The knots were too tight.
She snatched a carving knife from beside the fire, yanking it out of the remains of some roasted bird. Taunt and stretched, the ropes snapped like old harp strings. Ashek’s whole left side sagged, slamming down and nearly knocking her over.
“Ashek!”
She thought he made a groaning sound, but over the clamor of the brawl, it was impossible to be sure.
“Come on.” Talitha steadied his limp frame as best she could, hacking the ropes off his wrists.
This close, she could see the cracks in his lips from thirst, the blisters from the sun, smell the filth of being left here to hang. He must have been here since yesterday morning at least.
“Live,” Talitha rasped, sawing harder at the ropes. “For the love of our god, Ashek. Live.”
Chapter Eleven
Cursing, Talitha grabbed Ashek’s arm. “Come on!”
“Wait! What—stop!”
Talitha caught the flash of gold noting an Ilian’s armor and didn’t stop to look. She dove for the cliff as fast as she dared, dragging Ashek’s limp body after her. It didn’t look deeper than two or three times the height of a man, sloped and lined with sand. Rolling Ashek off the edge, she hoped there was nothing but sand at the bottom.
An Ilian sword swung for her head and Talitha dodged, dropping to one knee and shooting out a kick to the guard’s shin. He or she—she couldn’t tell which—went down and Talitha just barely had time to flip out of the way before a spear dove for her side.
Talitha grabbed the shaft of the spear as it moved past and shoved. The side smacked into the armored face of the Ilian and the next instant, Talitha was holding the spear.
The fight with the villagers had turned the narrow ledge into a free for all. Most the Ilians were still on the other side of the brawl and half had no idea that their prisoner had been stolen.
Another Ilian charged, bow and quiver of arrows slung across her back. There were four archers besides Mila, Talitha had counted. Talitha dodged again, leaning precariously far over the edge of the cliff. Two Ilians charged, their armor ablaze in dawning light of the twin suns.
Talitha growled, bringing her spear back around. An arrow skittered overhead, forcing her to duck and narrowly missing her shoulder.
The two Ilian guards cursed, dodging the miss. “Are you trying to kill us?”
Talitha looked up in time to see an archer with a bow and arrow, drawing the string back a second time. The first miss had been too close. Talitha wouldn’t be so lucky again.
The second guard lunged for her and she slipped to the side, planting her spear in the woman’s chest. Nehemian had once called Talitha Anatki’s Blessed for a reason—before she left the new religion.
Oddly, there was no sense of betrayal or turning against her former countrywoman. There was survival in the moment—hot and intense and the most important thing Talitha could have done.
She snatched the fallen bow and quiver off the downed soldier and spun around before the rest of the soldiers could slog their way through the brawl.
Coiling the rope tighter around her shoulder and clenching the bow and quiver, Talitha jumped. She thrust out a hand, scraping her palm over loose rocks and brambles on the way down. The skin sheered off her palm like butter.
Blood welled to the surface, clogged by sand. Scrambling backwards, Talitha fought to catch herself. She was slipping, sliding, shifting, barely upright along the steep slope. Branches broke, rocks tumbled free and all at once she hit the bottom.
Talitha crashed to her knees in the sand. Rocks and dirt and broken pieces of shrub rained on her head. Throwing up an arm to shield her face, she groped blindly in the chaos.
“Ashek?” she panted. “Ashek!” Her hand clanked into a breastplate and she winced. But what were a few more bloody knuckles? Clawing to her feet, Talitha grabbed him by the back of his armor. “Don’t die,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”
Talitha dragged him by the back of his collar along the cliff face, as close to the rocks as she could. Once they were out of sight from above, she grabbed an arrowhead and set to cutting the ties of his armor.
Under the heavy bronze plates, Ashek’s skin had blistered and baked. No armor was meant to be worn under the scorching sun for hours on end. Ashek moaned quietly as she peeled away the plating.
Overhead, the fight was subsiding, but a horn blared, sounding the alarm. For a sentenced convict to be stolen from under his guards’ nose would spell embarrassment to the ensaaks and death for all who had allowed him to escape.
There would be no mercy in hunting them.
Talitha finished cutting away the breastplate, greaves, and bracers. Ashek didn’t resist or give any sign he was even conscious. His arms were swollen and disjointed, pulled from their sockets after hours of hanging.
“Ashek?” she whispered. “Ashek, can you hear me?”
His eyelids fluttered, chapped and bloodied mouth twitching. But he didn’t make a sound. His shallow breaths wheezed out in the faintest whisper.
He wouldn’t have lasted more than a few more hours.
Clenching her eyes shut, she whimpered. “Please, just let me keep him.”
Overhead, the clamor grew louder. The soldiers were trying to find a safe way down. There were minutes at most before they were discovered, scarce little more before they were both strung up.
“Come on.” Talitha wasn’t sure why she bothered speaking to Ashek. She had little reason to believe he could even hear.
It appeared that the trench narrowed off to the south, growing steeper to the north. From that, she guessed that the soldiers would try descending from the south. To the north it was, then. The city gates were in the direction, but their pursuers were the more immediate threat.
Talith
a hastily untied the sirrush blanket from her waist and spread it on the ground. Rolling Ashek as carefully as she could, she lashed the blanket into a sling with the sirrush’s halter. Looping the bow and quiver over her shoulder, she adjusted the rope across her chest.
She’d dragged heavier weights before. The sand helped for the most part. Dragging weight was easier than carrying. She could do this.
Grinding her teeth, Talitha shoved harder. The sun was almost up. Once that happened, she would have every disadvantage.
A menagerie like Prothero’s would no doubt have something for tracking, too. Trained jackals or desert wolves or…
Shaking her head, Talitha tried to keep herself in the moment. She had enough problems in the present without piling on more.
The stench slapped her in the face first. Pressing deeper and farther into the gorge, Talitha gagged.
She wasn’t sure how long she had dragged Ashek, but the suns had cleared the horizon, flooding the valley with light. The gorge was still shaded, but overhead, the sky was ablaze with the dawn.
Talitha pressed toward the stench despite instinct telling her to turn back. When she rounded the corner, she nearly vomited.
Piles of bones and corpses in various stages of decomposition lined the floor of the gorge. There were brusii skulls, jackals, the picked-over carcasses of butchered sheep, emaciated sirrushes, discarded bits of sand rabbits, and more than a few unrecognizable piles of fur or scales.
Talitha covered her mouth with her arm. So much for being tracked. Nothing, not even the best dogs in Ilios, could have tracked through this. It was the perfect place to hide.
She looked back to Ashek. She had no illusions that she could keep dragging him forever. He was dehydrated and frailer than he had probably been since childhood. That thought sent a tightness through her chest.
All the same, she wasn’t strong enough to haul him through this gorge for hours on end. She needed to rest.
“Sorry.” Talitha gripped the sling across her chest tighter and ploughed on. Ashek bumped and jostled over bones and skulls and various bits of decaying animals. He would have bruises if they survived this, but that numbered among the least of their problems.
There were a few human skeletons and one unsettlingly fresh hand still clutching what appeared to be human hair. Rats, cockroaches, and a number of unseen hissing animals skittered away at the sound of their approach. It was amazing that so much life could flourish in this pit of death.
If she could get far enough in, she could find a place to hide Ashek and then get him water. Talitha’s throat was dry after just a few hours. She could only imagine how much worse Ashek must be. She glanced over her shoulder to him—limp and unresponsive at her back.
Half of her didn’t believe he would make it to nightfall. The other half couldn’t imagine anything else. Talitha could live without Ashek in the same way she could live without Ilios, her family, or her right arm. She would survive, but something would always be missing. She ground out another prayer between her teeth with every step. If there was anyone or thing that could help her now, it wasn’t human. The Lonely God understood loneliness. He’d created the whole world because of it.
From their backs, a clamor broke out. The rattling of armor between rocks, soldiers on the hunt.
Scrambling fast as she could, Talitha dragged Ashek’s makeshift sling around a corner, grabbing the wall. As she did, a chunk of earth gave way, sending her sliding to the ground and a pile of fresh sand at her feet.
She looked up. This section of the trench was newer, the sand unsettled.
This was a tomb for the unwanted dead of the city, meant to be filled in easily and cheaply as needed and redug as the situation demanded. In theory. She doubted it was ever actually filled in practice.
The sand was soft, prone to giving away. It wasn’t quite quicksand, but it was close enough to be dangerous. Too much jostling and shoving, and the whole of the narrow trench could come caving on top of their heads. Looking up, Talitha swallowed. She had not come this far to be buried alive.
Talitha dragged Ashek along the narrow vein. She had few options and fewer good ones. With a grunt, she hauled him away from the piles of bodies and into the narrow cleft. Careful not to let him touch either the left or right, she looped her arms around his chest. Groaning, she leaned back and dragged him best she could deeper into the trench. She’d seen these tunnels when she’d been riding out with Emalek and the others. Some of the tunnels ran straight out to the Sandsea. She could only pray this was one of those.
She dragged Ashek until her arms were burning, her back ached, and the clamor of their pursuers was biting at their heels. With a curse, Talitha laid Ashek carefully in the middle of the channel, where he wouldn’t jostle either the left or right of the fragile sand walls.
Snatching up the spear, she left the bow and quiver behind. They would just slow her down. She stepped over Ashek and ran fast as she could back to the opening of the trench, where it met the gulch for the disposed dead. Starting at the bottom, she made quick, sharp thrusts with the spear into the soft base of the sand walls. She wrenched the spear sideways, scooping out chunks. Sand came away golden and clumped, somewhat moist. Was that moisture from the rotting carcasses or was there still a spring somewhere near here? She licked her lips hopefully, but that would have to wait.
At first, nothing happened. Talitha kept shoveling with the spear. The soldiers’ clamor came closer. Talitha kept hacking at the walls. Finally, the first chunk of sand slid into the path. Then another and another.
A massive tumble of sand cascaded down, slamming straight for Talitha. She dove out of the path just as it closed the channel’s entrance. The cascade kept falling, falling, and falling while Talitha cursed every idol in her grandfather’s statuary. She dropped the spear and it was soon swallowed by the avalanche. She made it back to Ashek, wrapping her arms around his chest again and scuttling backwards. The sand slid and crumbled after them, tons and tons of golden grains that spelled slow death if they caught up.
Talitha dragged him farther and farther, focusing on another step, another step, just one more step. Her eyes never left the massive wall sliding after them. It oozed and sank, slow but deadly as the lava flows from the ash mountains in the north.
Fighting, she kept tugging as hard as she could until her arms buckled and she fell. Her arms gave out and she collapsed, crouched over Ashek. Snapping her head up, she watched in breathless horror as—the sand stopped.
Talitha blinked, thinking she’d been tricked for a moment. Ashek lay unresponsive in her arms. The guards were blocked off. And the sand had stopped falling.
It took Talitha a moment to come down from the high of the panic. Sweat trickled into her eyes and she smeared a hand over her forehead.
“Alright,” she panted. “Alright.” Brushing the hair back from Ashek’s face, she took a few deep breaths.
Ashek lay unmoving. Overhead, the vultures had already begun circling the trash heap. She cradled Ashek’s head in her lap, hauling her thoughts together.
Water first. Then she had just had to hide until nightfall, when she would need a plan to escape.
Chapter Twelve
Talitha left Ashek slumped in the shade of the trench. It had taken nearly an hour of fighting, yelling, and shoving before both his shoulders were securely back in their sockets. She’d dragged him a few hundred paces farther along the tunnels when they were done, just as a precaution. Who knew who how far that might have been heard?
She trudged her way out of the trench with nothing but the bow, quiver, and water flask skin belted at her hip. At midday, the wells would be deserted outside the city. But midday and midnight were the most dangerous times to be out alone.
Most the villagers did their errands in the morning and evening, taking advantage of safety in numbers. That had made the in-between hours in most places an unstable, questionable time frame.
Unless there was a strong city watch, as in Ilios, it was be
st to not be alone.
At this point, Talitha was angry enough and desperate enough to risk it. With her stolen bow and the quiver slung across her back, she marched with her jaw set and her shoulders back. She had a bow and carried nothing of value. If anyone wanted to rob her or try taking her into captivity again, they were more than welcome.
Talitha wasn’t sure where the local well might be, so followed the most worn track. Wells were usually placed outside the nearest work stations—or the work stations were placed outside the wells, depending how one looked at it. The village folk had come from the north west, so that was where Talitha headed.
She walked in plain sight. Anyone who saw her would probably take her for a hunter or some other no-good. At least an escaped slave wouldn’t be expected to roam in broad daylight.
She passed the point along the wall where Ashek had been staked. It had taken her over an hour to find a way out of the labyrinthine clefts of sand. Another hour to find her way back to the main road.
The sun was up and beating down. There was little sign that there had been guards here at all, save for the patch of soot, the picked over lizard bones, and the miscellany of an overnight camp. The pole where Ashek had hung stood empty and threatening, a vicious mockery.
Talitha had hidden him as best she could. Ashek had been unresponsive and shown no signs of moving when she left.
His breath rasped and wheezed, so she turned him on his side. That had helped somewhat, but Talitha still worried. What if she didn’t get him to Kasrei in time?
The well came into sight at the center of a village, if it could be called a village. Low thatched houses clustered together in a wheel formation around the central well. Women in dark chitons crouched around fires inside, minding their own business and wholly unconcerned with anything outside.
There appeared to be no children large enough to run—they were probably all working in the mineral minds, water mines, or whatever other kind of mines or crops there were. Reaching the edge of the well, the question was answered.
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